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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918428">Of Subconscious</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint'>doublejoint</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dreamsharing, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:29:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He has dreamed too much, seen too much already, that the Force will show him nothing new now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Subconscious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>brief blood-related imagery. maul's bionic penis.</p><p>there's no way maul would be so surprised about obi-wan being alive in rebels if this actually happened lol</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After it all comes to pass, Maul does not dream. He has dreamed too much, seen too much already, that the Force will show him nothing new now. It has already seen him the things he could not prevent--no, things he could have prevented but had not, things that had skittered out from under his fingers like insects, Kenobi and Skywalker and the chance to slaughter Sidious’s chosen and prized in front of him, to make him suffer and pay, the way Sidious had made Maul pay, the way Maul had already made Kenobi pay--and not enough (and Sidious had swept in and stolen Maul’s prize, as Skywalker was another beloved to Kenobi--strange, how they are all tied together, and strange how Maul continues to fall to the wayside).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maul has no time for dreams, at any rate, unless they show him something better, something else to steal from Sidious, some other needles to drive into Kenobi’s side, wherever he is. Thumbing his nose at Sidious by buying and stealing impersonally is not enough, not at his current rate, but it will grow. Maul knows how to wait. But he has waited long enough, too long, already. He is so fucking sick of waiting, building; no matter how careful or quick or quiet he is, Kenobi or Sidious will come in at the worst moment and snatch everything away all over again, or play out of the plans they don’t even know he’s laying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first night Maul dreams again, the day is inconsequential. Things are running as smoothly as they can, and his stupid subordinates don’t need their hands held in how to deal with the Empire or annoying citizens. It is almost calm, and Maul hates calm. The skin on his arms itches against his bed; he shifts and twists and turns. His sleep is restless; he wakes up from a half-sleep and falls back under, his nails digging into the callouses on his hands from gripping his lightsaber, as far as they’ll go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenobi is in his dream, meditating as if he is calm, as if all of this has not perturbed him, but at Maul’s snarl his eyes fly open and he looks startled, uncomposed. Good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you would not come to me on Mandalore, but you are here now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenobi looks confused, feels confused and scattered and in pain in the Force, yes, good--and then he vanishes, like a cut transmission, a phantom, an illusion. Maul is alone, and suddenly he is aware that his surroundings are a void, that the gravity is off. He attempts to steady himself with the Force, but the floor rips away from his feet and he is falling again, like Naboo bout worse, until he wakes up. His fingers clutch at the mattress; he moves his feet, bends his knees. They are real. This is real. And so is the fear, clinging to him like syrup on his mouth, sickly sweet, pulling him back down, deeper in the Dark Side. Kenobi is alive--Maul had always been sure of that, but this confirms it. Sidious would consider it a waste of time to plant this vision; it had been Kenobi himself and Maul, an accident perhaps, the two of them reaching too far. But where is Kenobi? He is not so easily daunted as to run away from meditations just from seeing Maul; if anything he might try to pacify him again. The fool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He has taken everything. He will not take Maul’s rage; he will not take Maul’s purpose.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenobi is back a few weeks later; this time the floor is steady and Kenobi stares at Maul as if he’s been expecting him, as if Maul is late. This time Maul snarls again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can feel your pain, Kenobi. Are you upset that Sidious took him away from you? Now do you understand how I feel--my brother—” (Savage, dead, fading, Sidious under the hood, Maul who had led him there, who had never let him know—)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand your pain,” Kenobi says. “But you cling to your rage and your hatred.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did not come here to be lectured!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then for what purpose did you come here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maul swings his hand around, reaching out with the Force, but Kenobi blocks him, rising halfway to his feet (lost a step? Maul wants to ask him but he has to focus on the push) and pushing back at him, a mirror. Maul grits his teeth, drawing on the Dark Side, all the years of rage and hatred, all of his frustration and restlessness--and finally, the Force has had enough of them both; the tension snaps. Maul flies backwards again, skidding on the floor, until he wakes up with his back flat against the bed and his saber gripped in his hand. He relaxes his grip, then tightens, burrowing the metal into his palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why does Kenobi think Maul needs a new reason to look for him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maul lowers the saber to the floor with the Force and relaxes his body, closing his eyes again. He can make his way back. He can find Kenobi; he can get answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you here to fight me again?” Kenobi sounds annoyed, or maybe amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is of no importance,” says Kenobi, as if that doesn’t mean the exact fucking opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, frustration starts to shriek under Maul’s skin. This will lead nowhere; he has to be patient--if he slays Kenobi here, if he maims him, Kenobi will wake up intact somewhere in the universe. He can make Kenobi hurt--step on the edges of his toes, so subtle that by the time the pain is raw and jagged and rough it will be too late to heal it properly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” Maul asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m meditating. The Force brought me here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Jedi and their riddles, and the answers to the questions that Maul did not ask or care about. The Force is nothing more than a tool. Maul bares his teeth. Kenobi bares his feelings--pain, a disgustingly tepid calm on the surface masking it, anger, sadness, duty, longing. So predictable; Maul rolls his shoulder--and then, a spark, that perhaps Kenobi did not mean to feel or show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Something not-so-pure from the Jedi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t exactly call myself pure,” says Kenobi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stands his ground. Yes, the want is there, easy to find now, as Kenobi lets himself feel it--how has Maul not felt it on Kenobi before? Is this something new? A thought caught before its release that has blossomed, like a cut that just nicks the artery, spilling blood everywhere? Maul licks his lips. He’s never really thought about Kenobi this way more than in passing, but if he could have him like this, shame him for sinking so low (if the thought is not shame, surely the act must be).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well? Do you really mean it?” says Kenobi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yes, Maul does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps forward, leering into Kenobi’s face; Kenobi doesn’t flinch at all. He grabs Kenobi into a kiss, forcing their lips against each other, Kenobi’s teeth screeching and scraping against his. He feels like nothing; he tastes like nothing--and somehow he is solid under Maul’s hands, solid pressed against Maul. Maul’s pulse rushes into his ears; his fingers twist into Kenobi’s hands and then Kenobi’s hand strokes over one of Maul’s horns. Maul hisses instinctively; it feels filthy to let Kenobi touch it, but--good. His nails graze over Kenobi’s ears and Kenobi’s mouth slackens; his hand stutters. He’s too easy. Maul does it again, and this time Kenobi groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strokes Maul’s horns again; Maul bites down on air, his teeth clacking together. He presses his body against Kenobi’s, feeling the absence of heat but his presence, in the Force and physically. Maul grinds their hips together, tightening his fingers against Kenobi’s scalp, biting his lip. He can’t taste the blood, not yet; he bites harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenobi groans, his nails swiping over Maul’s scalp. Not intentional, not deep enough to cut, and Maul can sense no instinct to apologize. Good, but could be better, if the nails were pressed into his skin with a purpose. He grinds his hips against Kenobi’s again; he could reach out with the Force to move things along but--they’re in no rush, and it’s not so much fun when Kenobi’s already probably done all of it already. Just the body is enough, if these are even bodies. Maul’s is as the one he lives in, flesh and metal, a reminder to the both of them the pain Kenobi has caused Maul, the pain Maul has inflicted in return. Maul snarls again, bites down, and tastes Kenobi’s blood on a swipe of the tongue. That is what finally makes Maul’s cock begin to twitch, to rise on its hinges against Kenobi’s thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenobi’s getting harder, and finally he gives into Maul’s desire and grips his head, his nails digging in. Pain brings focus, and Maul draws from the darkness deep within him. Yes, he wants Kenobi, and he can feel how Kenobi wants him too, thick and dripping like a worm risen from a lake, uncomfortable like the damn robes that Kenobi is still wearing. Maul has fewer clothes, but they are still perhaps too many. He begins to tug at the fabric of Kenobi’s tunic, so damn much of it (there are no Jedi anymore; he’s clinging to an obsolete relic of an order he is no longer a part of by dressing that way) and Kenobi steps backward to get out of his grip and pull the damn thing over his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are tan lines on his wrists and his neck, scars dashed in patterns like codes all across his chest and stomach. Pain, markers and guides for Maul’s hands and teeth perhaps, but--ahh, Kenobi grows impatient. He moves to remove his pants, too, and Maul lets him. Impatience suits Kenobi, the flushed cheeks above his beard and the twitches of his fingers, the way he looks up only for half a second when he sense Maul looking so closely, through the hair that’s fallen over his face. It only makes Maul more impatient himself, his hand going straight to his own cock when Kenobi stands up again. They step toward each other, as if mirroring moments; Maul unfastens his own clothes with the Force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Showing off?” Kenobi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maul sneers. He is close enough to grasp both Kenobi’s cock and his own in one hand, nearly; Kenobi steps forward again and they are. His hand comes up to do the same, but Maul’s arrives first, wrapping them both together. Now he can feel Kenobi’s temperature; his cock is warm against Maul’s, under his fingers, stiff but still so fleshy. Kenobi starts, probably at the sensation of Maul’s metal cock on his. Maul rubs his finger over the tip of Kenobi’s; Kenobi gasps and pulls Maul closer, wrapping an arm around Maul’s waist. It should be disgusting, but Maul’s desire wins, and with Kenobi that tight it’s so easy to sink his teeth into Kenobi’s shoulder while he rubs their cocks together. Kenobi’s fingernails dig into Maul’s back; Maul increases the friction. Maul’s breaths are faster and shallower, louder than any response he hears from Kenobi, and he’s closer and closer to coming. Just a little more, him first and maybe again if Kenobi’s got the stamina (though he probably doesn’t) and--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maul’s jaws snap shut with a sharp sound, squeezing no shoulder between them. His cock relaxes in his open hand. He is naked, blanketless on the bed in his empty room. Kenobi is nowhere to be found through the Force or any other method.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does not dream of Kenobi after that. His only dreams are empty, the space outside a viewport, a desert sandscape stretching out unmoving before him, when they come to him at all.</span>
</p>
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